


Fortification

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [65]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 19:30:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16793320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: “Yeah yeah,” Bryce says, his voice sounding like he’s smiling. “Whatever you want, superstar.”“That’d be you, I’m pretty sure,” Jared says.“Our relationship can have two,” Bryce says.“Are you sure your ego could take it?” Jared says.“Pretty sure,” Bryce says, still sounding like he’s smiling, and Jared beams back.





	Fortification

After he gets off the phone with Greg, Jared spends way too long grinning at himself in the mirror like a loser before he gets himself under control. Well. Kind of under control. Enough that he can call his parents without like, freaking out. Too much. Probably.

Sam looks up from his phone when Jared opens the bathroom door.

“Hey, can I have the room for a bit?” Jared asks. 

“Yeah, sure,” Sam says. “Everything okay?”

Jared guesses it’s probably weird when your roomie goes to take a call in the bathroom and then promptly kicks you out, probably while sporting a manic grin on his face.

“Yeah, all good,” Jared says. “I um. The Oilers just offered to sign me? And I should probably call my parents.”

“Holy crap, dude,” Sam says, and then Jared gets his first congratulatory hug. He’s still — he’s fine hugging his teammates on the ice, he _likes_ hugging his teammates on the ice, mostly because that means something good just happened, but off the ice not so much, Jared patting Sam twice on the back when it gets a little too long for his comfort level.

Sam thankfully departs after that, and Jared calls his dad, whose immediate ‘what’s wrong?’ reminds him that he doesn’t call his parents during the day either, and also…apparently he’s better than his dad at not blurting out the first thing he thinks? Though Jared imagines talking to your agent is a little different than talking to your kid.

“The Oilers want to sign me,” Jared says.

“They called you up?” his dad asks.

“No,” Jared says. “And Greg says I’m not looking at playing for them until next season the earliest, but like, they want me eventually, I guess, so they offered me a contract.”

“AAV?” his dad asks.

“925,” Jared says, and he still can’t believe it. Like, that’s literally the maximum they’re allowed to give him. And yeah, everyone and their brother (sometimes literally) is getting that right now, teams throwing them around like hundreds of thousands of dollars are pennies — which he guesses they are, compared to the salary cap, and if he plays in the AHL next year he’ll only see a tiny fraction of that, but —

“Good,” his dad says, not sounding shocked at all, more satisfied, like that’s what he wanted, expected.

“Holy shit, dad,” Jared says, a nervous giggle coming out of his mouth without his permission.

“Yeah, bud,” his dad says. “I know. You tell your mom?”

“I called you first,” Jared says.

“Hurry up and call her as soon as you get off the phone with me, or I’m gonna have to spill the beans,” his dad says, so Jared duly does. Him and his mom nervous giggle at each other — Jared can’t imagine where he got the habit from — and then he calls Bryce.

“What’s wrong?” Bryce asks. 

Man, maybe Jared should occasionally call during mornings so he doesn’t give everyone he loves a heart attack when he has good news.

“So I just made like ninety grand,” Jared says.

He expects Bryce to be confused, but he just immediately blurts out, “They signed you?”

“They signed me,” Jared says. “Or, like, I still have to sign the contract, so I haven’t made it yet, but. They want to sign me.”

“I’m so fucking happy for you,” Bryce says, and okay, Jared needs to stop smiling at some point, it is actively hurting his face right now. “You deserve it like, so much.”

Jared — maybe nervously giggles.

“Want to go out for dinner to celebrate when you get home?” Bryce says. “Like, your parents and Erin too. On me.”

Jared isn’t sure if that is Bryce being sweet by including his family or Bryce wanting a plausible deniability buffer. Probably both. He is also perfectly capable of paying for dinner — well, he will be when he gets signed, but he’s…not sure he’ll have signed the papers by tomorrow, so maybe he’ll just let Bryce have this one.

“Do not take us somewhere that people who actually make ninety grand a year can’t look at a menu without wincing,” Jared says, and then, to cover his bases, “And anywhere that doesn’t list the prices counts as that, I don’t want my dad snatching the bill to try to do that like, one-upping thing he does with you, and having a heart attack when he sees how much dinner cost.”

“Yeah yeah,” Bryce says, his voice sounding like he’s smiling. “Whatever you want, superstar.”

“That’d be you, I’m pretty sure,” Jared says.

“Our relationship can have two,” Bryce says. 

“Are you sure your ego could take it?” Jared says.

“Pretty sure,” Bryce says, still sounding like he’s smiling, and Jared beams back.

*

Jared gets many, many congratulatory hugs. Some of the guys seem to mean it more than others, and Jared gets that — he’s doled out hugs of his own when he’s feeling more jealous than anything, and doled out hugs where he’s just genuinely happy for the guy. Part of the journey: some guys are going to go further than you do, or get there faster, and it’s something you have to learn to deal with.

He’s mostly gotten control over his face when they hit the ice for warm ups, which is good, because it actually _hurts_ — today has been one hell of a workout for the muscles in his face — but also maybe he should just keep grinning? It’d probably be good psychological warfare: Jared sure as shit wouldn’t feel comfortable if one of his opponents was grinning in his face the whole game.

There’s a girl in an Oilers jersey around Jared’s age who keeps waving at him, and it’s weird. Well, her wearing an Oilers jersey isn’t — Jared sees more Flames jerseys than Hitmen ones at home games — but he’d assume that wearing one meant you wouldn’t be waving at the enemy. 

She keeps trying to get his attention, distracting the shit out of him, and when he raises a hand, hoping if she gets a wave back she’ll let him, oh, _warm up_ , because he’s having a hard enough time getting into game mode right now, she turns around, pointing, and that’s. That’s fucking Matheson on her back, which is —

Like, he doesn’t even know her. Has he met people with his jersey? Yeah, his family, obviously, and some Hitmen fans do, but an _Oilers_ one? He hasn’t even played a game for them, at least not a real one, so why the hell would anyone have one? Well, Erin’s got an Oilers jersey with his name on it, but she’s his sister, and also did it just to bug him. Jared was pretty sure the only person who owned a Matheson Oilers jersey other than Erin was, well. Him, and he has it for obvious reasons.

He isn’t even an Oiler yet, technically, hasn’t signed the contract, and it won’t hit the news until he does, so it’s just — who the hell has a jersey of an unsigned prospect? Does she have like, a closet with a hundred Oilers jerseys or something? Is she some cousin Jared’s never met? Jared’s so fucking confused.

He puts it out of his head long enough to play the game — they win, and he comes out with two more points, a goal and an assist, which puts an exclamation point on what’s already a pretty damn good day — but when Bryce calls him after, it comes up again, because it’s _weird_. Like, he intellectually knows that people will wear his jersey eventually, but it’s a whole other thing to see it.

“She probably bought it because she thinks you’re cute,” Bryce says.

“I doubt it,” Jared says. “No one drops over two hundred bucks on a jersey just because they think a guy’s cute.”

Bryce snorts. “Okay, Jared,” he says. 

“They don’t!” Jared says. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I can’t tell you how many girls show up wearing my jersey with signs like ‘stick it in my five hole, Bryce’, ‘#94, score and I’ll let you score’,” Bryce says. “And those are like, the tame ones.”

“Okay yeah, they think _you’re_ cute,” Jared says.

“Why wouldn’t they think you were?” Bryce says. “ _I_ think you’re cute.”

“I mean, I’d hope so,” Jared says. “But you’re also like, a kickass player.”

“Uh, so are you last I checked,” Bryce says.

“Yeah, I’m so good I’m in the Dub,” Jared says.

“So was I at your age,” Bryce says, which is true, but —

“‘At your age’,” Jared snickers. “Thanks for your wisdom, old man.”

“Fuck off,” Bryce says. “You know what I mean. Making the NHL at eighteen is crazy rare, you not playing for the Oilers doesn’t say shit about how good you are. Plus they just fucking signed you, J.”

“I know,” Jared says. “I know I’m good.”

“You’re awesome,” Bryce says.

“Well, I’m no Bryce Marcus,” Jared says.

“Jared,” Bryce whines. “Two superstars, remember? You’re the one who had a goal and an assist tonight.”

“Good point,” Jared says. “I mean, I’m a little worried about you — you’ve only got what, thirteen points in your last ten games? Pitiful.”

“Twelve,” Bryce says.

“Ouch,” Jared says. “Yeah, I dunno if you can keep up with me.”

Sam knocks on the door. “Jared,” he says. “I gotta piss.”

Jared scowls. Sam was watching TV with his eyes half shut when Bryce called, so Jared thought he was in the clear, but no, this is the _one time_ Sam makes it past midnight.

“Gotta go,” Jared says.

“I see how it is,” Bryce says. “I’m not good enough for you anymore.”

“Roomie wants the bathroom,” Jared says. “But you’re right, better get a hat-trick tomorrow or we’re through.”

Bryce snorts. “I’ll do my best.”

“Was that your girlfriend or something?” Sam asks when Jared opens the door.

“Or something,” Jared says. It’s going to be another few weeks at least until he finishes evaluating whether Sam’s safe to tell. He hasn’t been disqualified like Tristyn almost immediately was, but he hasn’t been like, almost instantly okayed like Raf was either. He’s in gay limbo for the moment. 

“Boyfriend?” Sam asks, which actually kind of — cuts that few weeks down to nothing, because not only is it not the kind of follow-up question you usually get asked, at least from Jared’s experience, but he also doesn’t ask it as a joke or anything, just legit ‘oh, you may not be straight, my bad for assuming’. Jared is capable of re-evaluating on the fly.

“Actually, yeah,” Jared says.

“Cool,” Sam says.

“Yup,” Jared says. Sam’s kind of staring at him, so he wonders if he’s just made a mistake here. This day was too good. He got cocky, and now Sam’s going to freak out and ask for a roommate change, and —

“Um,” Sam says. “I still have to piss, though.”

Or Sam’s staring at Jared because he’s blocking the bathroom door.

“Shit, sorry,” Jared says, and scoots out of his way.

*

As promised, Bryce takes Jared and the Mathesons out to dinner when Jared gets back home. Jared’s dad doesn’t even complain about it when Jared asks, just agrees, and Jared’s unsure if that’s because he’s warmed up to Bryce or just because he’s in a good mood because Jared’s been signed, but either way, he’s taking it as a good sign for the night.

The place Bryce picks is — well, it’s not like, the chain restaurants Jared’s used to for birthdays, milestones, but the price point is pretty similar, which Jared genuinely appreciates, the menu heavy on steak and pasta, AKA practically Jared’s entire diet. They’ve got a table at the back, with a few empty tables buffering it, and Jared wonders if that’s like, a thing Bryce asked for, because the restaurant’s not empty or anything. Can you just do that? Snap your fingers and get privacy even if there isn’t a private room? Maybe if you take a picture with the owner, which Bryce totally did when they came in, Jared hanging back awkwardly. He’s just grateful his family hadn’t gotten there yet, because it seemed like the kind of thing his dad would use as grunt fodder.

Erin orders the most expensive steak on the menu, and Jared joins his mom and dad in glaring at her as she’s ordering it, her voice sugar sweet. Jared kicks her under the table for good measure. No fucking way she’s going to eat twelve ounces _plus_ sides. 

“What,” Erin says, once the waiter’s gone. “Bryce can afford it no problem.”

She says it like Bryce isn’t even there. Either the Bryce crush is over, or she’s resorted to pigtail pulling like a kindergartener. Well. That worked pretty effectively for Jared, in hindsight, but Bryce remains eight years older than her. Also taken. And gay.

“That’s not the point,” his mom says.

Bryce opens his mouth, and Jared kicks his foot under the table before he says something like ‘no worries, I can afford it’, which would piss the hell out of Jared’s parents, because, like his mom said, that’s not the point. 

“Why can’t I get the food I want?” Erin says.

“You just happen to want the one thing that costs thirty dollars more than the rest of the food on the menu?” his mom asks.

“Yeah, so?” Erin asks. “It’s thirty bucks, Bryce makes that in like, one second.”

“Can you guys not argue in front of Bryce, please?” Jared asks, while Bryce fiddles uncomfortably with his napkin.

“Why not?” Erin says. “He’s like, apparently going to be family soon enough, so he should get used to it.”

“Erin,” his mom snaps, sharper than Jared thinks a stupid joke warrants.

“What?” Erin says. “You guys said—”

“Enough,” his dad says, way too loud, and not just because they’re in a restaurant, but like — Jared winces when his dad hits that volume anywhere but in the stands during his games, and even then sometimes. That voice carries.

Bryce is very, very red. Jared reaches down under the table to put his hand on his knee, but Bryce pulls his leg away as soon as Jared touches it, and who could blame him? Fuck knows Jared doesn’t blame him for not wanting to be in this family, and it’s pretty fucking mortifying to have _marriage_ brought up, his parents making everything ten times worse by turning Erin’s stupid joke into a _thing_. 

“Sorry Bryce,” Erin says. It sounds grudging, but it’s still kind of shocking considering no one actually asked to her to apologise.

“No worries,” Bryce mumbles, but the dinner’s kind of — shitty now, strained, Bryce quiet, even when his dad starts asking him questions about the Flames, an olive branch Jared’s proud of him for offering. There’s a lot of mechanically shoveling food into mouths once it arrives and waiting for dinner to be over, on Jared’s part and like — everyone else’s too, Jared’s pretty sure.

The ride back to their place is kind of strained too, and Jared just wishes his family could last like, one dinner without making Bryce feel awkward. Just one. Maybe that’s what he’ll ask for for Christmas. He doubts he’ll get it, though.

“About what Erin said,” Bryce says after they get back home, before Jared can even take his coat off.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Jared says. “She’s a total troll, but like, obviously I didn’t take any of that seriously, you know? Unlike my parents, for some reason.”

“Why not?” Bryce says.

Jared blinks. “Why didn’t I take it seriously?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Bryce says.

“Uh,” Jared says. “Because like, I’m eighteen and you’re not out? For starters?”

“Right,” Bryce says.

“I mean like, one day down the line, maybe,” Jared says. “Like, I’d — I’m not planning on dropping you any time soon, you know, I’m kinda—”

He’s screwing this up, judging by Bryce’s face, but he doesn’t know how he is, whether like, mentioning getting married even as a long off hypothetical is freaking Bryce out, which wouldn’t be surprising, because like, he balked at telling his own _agent_ he had a boyfriend, or if it’s how shitty it’s all coming out. ‘Not planning on dropping you’: nice way of telling a dude you love him, Jared. He thinks he’s just gonna — shut up now.

“Anyway sorry about my awful sister,” Jared says.

“It’s cool,” Bryce says, sounding very much like it isn’t cool.

“How am I screwing up right now?” Jared says. “Like please tell me so I can fix it.”

“You’re not,” Bryce says, like a liar. “You’re good. Did I say congrats yet?”

A liar who is blatantly changing the subject. “Yes,” Jared says. “Bryce—”

Bryce kisses his jaw, then the spot behind his ear that always gets him. A lying liar who is now trying to distract Jared.

“Congrats,” Bryce says, low, a little husky, his lips brushing Jared’s skin, voice a physical thing reverberating _through_ Jared, and fuck, Jared is successfully being distracted right now.

He has good intentions, though, and he is going to stand strong, and not be budged, because obviously he said something wrong, and he wants to figure out what he is so he doesn’t —

“Wanna have rivalry sex?” Bryce asks.

“I’m not actually playing for them yet, you know,” Jared says.

“We can get some practice in early,” Bryce says, punctuating it with the slightest hint of teeth against Jared’s neck.

“Yeah, okay,” Jared says, giving in, because he is weak, and his boyfriend is hot, and rivalry sex sounds — yeah, they can get some practice in.


End file.
